The Manners of Kings
by riverunderhill
Summary: In the days of the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo wrestles with issues of kingship and identity. Appearances by Gandalf and the Elvenking of Mirkwood.
1. Part I - Stormy Thoughts

**The Manners of Kings**

West of the Lonely Mountain many had assembled. Elves and Men had put up camps and unfurled the banners of their houses. Against the slate-grey sky these banners hung limp, no breeze stirred the canopies of the tent sea spread out beneath the mountain's shadow.

Bilbo sat apart from the companies of elven guards. Wrapped in a blanket he held in his hands a bowl of some earthy broth that he had allowed to go cold. Heavy was the weight on the hobbit's heart if he could allow food of any kind to remain uneaten.

The face of Thorin Oakenshield floated in his mind, those proud features twisted with rage and betrayal and Bilbo had none to blame but himself. So hard-won had been his friendship with the dwarf prince that he could only account for his actions with madness.

Perhaps Thorin had not been the only one to fall under the glamourous thrall of gold and gems that at this very hour were stilled piled high in the Halls of Erebor. At the time he had only thought to put an end to Thorin's stubborn refusal to quit his halls. After all, he had only just won them and not through any large effort of his own. He thought this last part bitterly as he kicked a stone into his own small fire.

A heavy figure sat down beside him and Bilbo was cheered to see that it was Gandalf, come to share in a quiet moment and puff at his pipe. The wizard had for a long time been holding council with Bard of the Lake Men and Thranduil, the Elvenking and even he could grow tired of two wilful individuals such as they.

'Here now, Master Bilbo,' said Gandalf after settling down with the usual amount of grumbling in creaking. 'It appears that you have once again found yourself right in the thick of things.'

'More like in a fine mess, Gandalf,' Bilbo sighed and took out his own pipe although he had long since run out of anything with which to pack its wooden bowl.

'I cannot say that is untrue,' muttered the wizard with his pipe stem already between his teeth. There was a long paused filled with the huffing copious drifts of pale blue smoke.

As Gandalf settled back against the packs laid behind them he handed his worn leather pouch to Bilbo without a word. Bilbo took it gratefully and with many stuttered thanks which the wizard dismissed with a few, cloudy puffs.

The two of them smoked for a while in silence filling their corner of the camp with the heady smell of the burning weed. Bilbo smoked with nervous quickness, noting that the elves had moved upwind of them without so much as a word or a glance. Clearly they were used to having a wizard in their midst and had adapted to his strange habits.

Bilbo sighed gustily, 'what sort of friend am I, Gandalf?'

'Hmm, I should think that only you might answer that, Bilbo Baggins.'

The hobbit grew more flustered, 'then I am a horrid friend indeed to keep with Thorin's company for so long only to take the thing he most longed for.'

Gandalf's eyes glittered from beneath his great, grey eyebrows. 'If you think that Thorin Oakenshield would value a glittering bauble above all other things in this world then you are as bad a friend as you say you are.'

Bilbo was stunned.

'I think you will find,' continued Gandalf as if he did not see the stricken expression on Bilbo's face, 'that it is not the Arkenstone that is the source of Thorin's wrath, but that he lost it so easily.'

'Just like he lost his home,' said Bilbo in breathless realization.

'Just so,' said Gandalf. 'I think that one can more easily stomach the loss of one's home to a dragon than the loss of heritage to a burglar, particularly one who was up to now an ally.'

Bilbo gave these notions of homes and heritage several long puffs worth of thought. That he missed his own home was plain enough, for he dreamt of it often, but it had never occurred to him that it might not be there for him to have.

Gandalf watched the hobbit think, the cloud of blue smoke growing ever larger around the spire of his pointed hat.

'Imagine for a time that your fine old hobbit-hole was not only home to yourself but to a great many people. Think now what it might mean to lose that.'

Bilbo jumped slightly in his seat and wondered whether he had said anything out loud.

At that moment there was a rustling of cloth from further on down the camp and the Elvenking emerged, cloaked in the flickering light of many blazing fires and crowned with starlight. He turned his fair eyes towards the seated wizard and gave a slight nod.

Bilbo watched the tall figure move between the fires, pausing at nearly every one to hear some news from his warriors or give council to those gathered about him. The hobbit was reminded of the many times he had watched Thorin on their long journey give that same attention to the dwarves who were huddled with him around the campfire.

The dwarf he had seen on those long nights had seemed to him more a king than the dwarf who was currently holed up inside his shattered halls surrounded by his glittering treasure and meager band of companions.

His mind fell to these dark thoughts and he wondered with no small amount of bitterness whether Thorin was worthy of the role he had come so far to take.

'I wonder, my dear Bilbo, if you are not being a tad heartless in your thoughts.' This remark from Gandalf, though less startling than the first, was still unsettling for it gave voice to thoughts which Bilbo believed were solely in his own keeping.

'Forgive me,' Bilbo answered quickly. 'When I think of how this whole business could be so easily solved if Thorin would only come down from his fortress, I cannot help but grow frustrated.'

Gandalf laughed, and it was a surprising sound. He patted Bilbo warmly on the back and rose from his seat. 'Perhaps if more kings were hobbits the world would not be so dark and fearsome.'

Bilbo had no answer but his mouth continued to flap uselessly for several moments. He managed only to close it when they were joined by the Elvenking, returned from his rounds in the camps.

'It seems that once more we find ourselves on the brink of chaos, Mithrandir.' He said this without taking his eyes from Bilbo's face and the halfling felt heat rising in his cheeks.

'Too often do I find you in such places, Thranduil,' Gandalf replied and this caused to elf to laugh.

'So it appears that my lot is to face madness at every turn.'

'Only because you are too compelling a target.'

The Elvenking placed a long, pale hand on the wizards' shoulder, guiding him back towards the tents.

'I would have your council now, my friend. If I might trouble you further.'

Gandalf huffed and grumbled but made no move to dislodge the guiding hand. 'Have I not spent enough time being driven to my wits end by your plans? I know I only appear old but you are one to make me feel the weight of my years, Oropherion.'

Thranduil's expression became grave and his voice softened so that Bilbo could barely hear his words. 'I have cares apart from those which we currently face and it is with your wisdom that I hope to lighten them, if only for a time.'

Gandalf grew serious as well and nodded, taking his staff from where it lay near the fire. 'Then you shall have my council for what good it might do.'

The two of them moved away into the camp, disappearing into the long tent at the end of the row. Bilbo settled himself further into his resting place and arranged the blanket to cover his legs. He thought no more of Thorin that night, turning his mind instead to the elves who moved about the camp in small groups, speaking in worried tones.

These did not seem to him the same merry folk who feasted among the trees despite the knowledge that spiders lurked and bred just beyond the halo of their firelight.

Eventually he was able to fall into a fitful sleep in which he dreamt that he was back underneath the Elvenking's halls, clinging to a rolling, slippery barrel as it smashed against others and the walls of the cramped passage. In his dream the metal gate that held the barrels away from the river rose above him higher and faster than it ever could in truth. The barrels surged forward into darkness and Bilbo felt himself being swallowed up by the cold and raging blackness that sent him tumbling head over feet. When he awoke shaking and gasping for breath there was only the bleak sky above him and the anxious talk of the elves in the camps which continued long into the night.

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, settings or plot lines as they were set down by J.R.R. Tolkien - I merely use them for inspiration. _

Feedback welcome.


	2. Part II - The Fallen

_They buried Thorin deep beneath the Mountain, and Bard laid the Arkenstone upon his breast.  
'There let it lie till the Mountain falls!' he said. 'May it bring good fortune to all his folk that dwell here after!'  
Upon his tomb the Elvenking then laid Orcrist, the elvish sword that had been taken from Thorin in captivity._

_(The Hobbit, Chapter XVIII: The Return Journey)_

Bilbo sat on the ground withhis head slumped forward to his chest. His shoulders shook with endless sobs. It seemed too simple, a canvas door had slipped down behind him and Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain for too short a time was gone from this world forever.

Surely the death of a king, even one as short-lived as Thorin had been, warranted that the skies overflow with rain and even that the stars stop shining. The earth, however, rarely feels death in the manner of its inhabitants.

And so Bilbo cried in place of the rain. Around him the camp was being broken down for none wished to remain in a place where the black blood of goblins and the red blood of the Free People stained the bare soil.

It wasn't fair, thought Bilbo. What unjust being could cause someone to cross so far a distance and through so much toil as Thorin Oakensield had done, only to deny him his reward by cruel death.

After a very long time Bilbo sat up. His throat stung and was raw from crying and his head pounded relentless where he had been hit during the battle. No one seemed to be taking any notice of him so he wandered aimlessly between collapsed tents and lonely banners still stuck into the ground.

What good could he have done even if he had fought at Thorin's side instead of with the elves? Like as not he would have been killed. The fact that he wasn't did nothing to lift his guilt.

His feet took him near the place where many of the wounded were laid upon the ground. Warriors and healers moved between the bodies, offering comfort where it was needed. Bilbo stood apart, watching the elves as they tended to their kindred. Worry and sorrow clouded their fair features. Loss of any kind weighed heavily on the souls of immortals.

Something stirred nearby and Bilbo shrank back involuntarily at the sight of the Elvenking. Still clad in armour, his sword at his him, his boots crusted with blood and earth, he was fearsome to behold. Yet the battle had not left him unscathed. His skin was split above his eye, his golden hair was dull and caked with filth, and his pale, nimble hands were battered about the knuckles with many cuts on his fingers.

He walked with care between the rows of wounded soldiers, sparing a word and a touch wherever it was asked for. There was kindness in his eyes where before Bilbo had seen rage as the Elvenking had wielded his mighty sword against the enemy.

If only he could see Thorin taking the same care with those who had served him with such loyalty. For all his brazenness and thunder, Thorin had shown a fierce and unbending love for those dwarves who kept his company.

Some distance away the king was speaking closely with an attending healer. Bilbo stole closer, finding it difficult to shake the habits of a burglar even now when they were no longer needed.

He watched from behind a stack of spears as the king bent his knee and laid his hand upon a fallen warrior. Bilbo could see that the elf stirred and moved his own hand to cover the king's.

Curious at the exchange Bilbo moved to get a closer look and would have sent the spears clattering to the ground if a hand had not clamped down on his shoulder and stayed him.

'Now is not the time for your curiosity, my young friend.' The voice was Gandalf's.

'The cares of the Elvenking are great in number - ' Gandalf spoke as if to himself.

'If he has so many shouldn't he see to them?' asked Bilbo.

'You see them here before you,' answered Gandalf as he led Bilbo away to another part of the camp. 'Thranduil's love for his people is the only thing to exceed his desire for gems and fine wine. Long will he fight to keep them safe from the shadows that creep across this earth.'

Bilbo glanced back over his shoulder hoping for one more glimpse of the king.

'Why bring them all this way?' asked the hobbit when they were well away from the scene.

Gandalf sucked his teeth and gazed down at Bilbo with a curious expression. 'We are none of us perfect, Bilbo. And those who seem to have the greatest wisdom are often those whose faults weigh heaviest upon their souls.'

The wizard gathered his worn, grey robes around him and settled down at the side of a blackened and muddy fire pit.

'Thranduil fights because were he not to do so what remains of his father's realm would fall to ruin. A once great nation of elves reduced to nearly one third of their number, barricaded in a mountain hall when they once roamed all the land from here and further south, to the west back to the Misty Mountains and north into the mighty expanse of the Greenwood. And all that stands between them and the forces of evil is the power of their king.'

Bilbo breath caught in his throat. The Elvenking was also fighting for a home he had lost. Yet the injustice he felt could not be so easily shaken. Why should the Elvenking live when others fought alongside him to defend his realm? Thorin had returned alone to reclaim his kingdom which had long stood unguarded, save for a dragon.

He felt tears welling afresh and he shut his eyes against them. Strong arms drew him into an embrace and Bilbo gave into his grief while wrapped in the comforting scent of Gandalf.


	3. Part III - Partings and Conclusions

**The Manner of Kings**

_Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting, these belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. _

**Part III - Partings and Conclusions**

Bilbo and Gandalf rode away from the Lonely Mountain in the company of Thranduil and his army. Bilbo rode mostly in silence, watching the king as he spoke with the wizard.

The Elvenkings face was once again merry and fair; all signs of the battle having faded. He looked as ever he did yet Bilbo thought that his eyes held more care than before.

Once or twice he had been caught starting fixedly at the king who had returned his looks with a courteous nod of his head.

Bilbo could feel the resentment in his heart, weaker than when he had first felt it stir in those hours after the battle but it reminded him constantly of what had been lost.

When at last they turned to part ways Bilbo was sorry to leave the company of the wood elves. He hoped he might be allowed to spend some time amongst them as a welcome guest instead of lurking like a ghost in their halls.

With much ceremony and exchanging of blessings - for both Gandalf and the Elvenking were fond of such things - the pair prepared to set out on their journey and the elves moved away through the forest gate.

Bilbo stayed a while and watched them leave, allowing the sight of those strange folk clad in green and brown to imprint upon his memory. His gaze lingered on the Elvenking as he guided his mount moved beneath the heavy branches of the gate. He was in close conversation with an elf who rode at his side.

This elf, like the king, had golden hair when many about him where of darker stock, and his face was bright and fair. Thranduil reached out and clasped the arm of his companion with the same affection that Bilbo had seen when he passed among the wounded.

That was the last he saw of them and he turned to follow Gandalf who had been watching him from some distance ahead.

'I might have liked to stay a while with them,' mused Bilbo as they walked their mounts. 'Had my experience of the wood not been plagued with all sorts of spiders and peering eyes I would have been quite happy.'

'At another time I might have wished that as well,' replied the Wizard. 'To be a guest in Thranduil's house is an honour indeed, when one comes by it honestly.'

Bilbo eyed Gandalf suspiciously, having only told him a small part of his adventures in Mirkwood. No doubt that the wizard would know the rest of that tale and more besides by the time their journey was ended.

They travelled in silence for some time longer before Bilbo's curiosity once again took hold of him.

'Who was that elf, the one riding beside the King at the forest gate? They seemed awfully familiar.'

'Hmm?' Gandalf replied, appearing to jolt out of some reverie. 'Oh, that was the son of Thranduil, a capable warrior if I rightly recall.' His eyes grew dim for the barest instant, 'he had a particular fondness for honey cakes-' and then the wizard regained focus as if he had not spoken.

Bilbo was taken aback. 'The King has a son?'

'Perhaps more than one? I find I cannot bring the fact so easily to mind. That there is one, I am sure. Of others you will have to make your own conclusions.' He resumed his ride in ponderous silence, leaving Bilbo in no other company but that of his own thoughts.

Gandalf's tale from some nights returned to him. How much longer might a person be willing to fight for their home, even in the face of terrible peril, when the safety of their children hung in the balance? Thorin had no children, and his closest kin had perished defending him in battle. Perhaps it was that Thorin fought for himself and for the honour of his ancestors which caused him to crumble under the weight of the mountain.

It was not for anyone to know but Thorin himself. But it did give Bilbo cause to wonder at his own fortune. Perhaps it was time that Bag End stood for more than just his own life.

With this in mind Bilbo rode at Gandalf's side and though the wizard never gave any indication, the hobbit was sure that easing of his soul did not go unnoticed.

~~**END~~**


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